During the early months
of the pandemic
when the air itself felt uncertain,
I found myself holding
my father’s gold tie clip
with a diamond chip
set in onyx.
Not studying it.
Not remembering anything in particular.
Just closing my fist
around
a small piece
of leaden ballast.
Metal against my palm.
For a few moments
the strange drifting feeling
that had taken hold of the world
settled.
And I felt something simple:
sometimes what steadies us
is not an idea
or an explanation
but the silent weight
of something
that once belonged
to someone who
was there for us.
Sadly, I wore his clip
only to lose it somewhere
between work & home
& lose that
ballast again.
I will imagine that whom ever found the clip will sense that there is "good mojo", and wear it with a sense of respect or empowerment.